Lost Love Letters
by Delirium Tremens
Summary: Charlie Weasley and Oliver Wood write to each other before the Quidditch World Cup. SAPPY....


Dearest Oliver,  
I canÕt seem to keep my mind off you these last few days. I canÕt wait to see you again. Even more so than the Quidditch World Cup; I never thought IÕd say that and I know to you it means the earth, but every time I look at the Daily Prophet pictures of the teams, their faces seem to be yours and IÕm caught in a flurry of Òdo you remember?Ó. So I need to share my do-you-remember with you before I go completely bonkers and end up in a lot of trouble; you have to keep your wits about you here, or itÕs crispy Weasley for breakfast. 

Do you remember that night, last summer, when you came to visit me here in Romania? And we walked under the stars, away from the flaming dragons and the sleeping guardians. Five miles out under the dark canopy of fir trees you turned to me and took my hands and kissed the burns; no potion before or since has healed me as completely as those few spare touches from your curving lips. I thought I felt you tremble; I know I felt myself tremor in the night air, and I pulled you closer with my burnt fingers and you pulled your Quidditch-callused hands; broom-roughened; in a whisper of a stroke across my face, softer than I thought someone who spent his life catching Quaffles could be. 

But I have my own tenderness too (despite the scaly-beast fixation you complained about so often!), and I hope I showed you that when I kissed you. You certainly showed me yours; a tenative tongue carressing my own like a damp velvet glove, a sinuous independent being moving into my mouth to never leave again. ItÕs not like IÕve never kissed anyone before; Filch nearly had a heart-attack when he caught me and Peter Foster in one of his supposedly hidden broom cupboards in my fifth year at Hogwarts; but never, never before, with either boys or girls, has anything touched me like that. I thought my insides were going to melt; I thought IÕd turned into molten gold or that perhaps this was some cruel dream and I was going to wake up clutching at nothing again. 

For all the kisses weÕve shared since, that one sticks most potently in my memory, and now, my broom-borne Wood-nymph - the greatest Keeper Hogwarts ever produced, and keeper of my heart É after a long year absent from each other I will kiss those yielding red lips again, and drown myself in the oceans of your eyes. 

Until then I remain  
Your Charlie.  
xxx 

Dear Charlie,  
IÕm counting off the days. I've started counting off the hours and my brother says if I start telling everyone how many minutes it is until the match he may lose his head and put a Silencing Charm on me; either that or just smack me. 

DonÕt worry, Charlie, I charmed my quill so it wonÕt let me write about Q********. I made sure, so if I try and write about *******Õ* ****** ******* ******* it just blots it out or wonÕt put any ink down at all. I was about to say I donÕt know which is more exciting, going to see the W**** C** (oh, come on, bloody quill É IÕm going to see the damn thing and I canÕt write about it?) or going to see you again. But I know É I could see a Q******** match any Saturday of the year (itÕs the W**** C** though!), but you? You I never know if youÕre going to reply to my last letter, if you havenÕt managed to get yourself fried alive by the bloody scaly beasts youÕre so fascinated with É yeah, I know you love them as much as I do Q - that game (bloody quill... I should have been more specific) É but I still never know. And I _worry_. Oh IÕll never be as eloquant as you, I canÕt write letters like your last one and maybe I just never get out what I mean (that last letter I had to read on the toilet; talk about bringing everything back! I was walking around with a stupid smile all over my face). I want to though. I want to tell you how I feel but there donÕt seem to be the right words; sure you could find them though. I canÕt sit here and try and write what IÕm thinking about or memories of last summer because I donÕt know whichÕd explode first, me or the quill. But I will say something. 

I will say that IÕve missed you so much. And that I think I could possibly if I actually let myself I canÕt say it itÕs too hard I love you. 

And I will always love you  
Oliver.  
xxx  



End file.
